


Napier and the Billionaire

by dawngloaming



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecurity, M/M, POV First Person, POV Joker (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawngloaming/pseuds/dawngloaming
Summary: An AU where everything is fine. Jack Napier narrates his first time at a Wayne party, in order to stay calm. It's his debut as Bruce's boyfriend! No one knows about him because he and Bruce met in college, and now Bruce has graduated, and will finally start as head of the company. He's a bit nervous about what the conservative Gothamites will think of a bisexual heir running things, however.





	Napier and the Billionaire

Jack Napier is attending…no…oh no no no NO! Not attending! Starring. Jack Napier is STARRING in Gotham’s new and sensational show. And what might that be, you ask? Why, the WAYNE Enterprises Gala, of course, darling!

The dashing young rogue dazzles, decked in head to toe–oh fuck FUCK FUCK! The time, the time…the goddamn time!!! So much, wasted on playing mirror mirror on the wall, wasted on theatrical fantasies. I swear, I could out-monologue a cartoon villain to death. But hey, what’s better for destressing than talking to yourself? What’s better than pretending you’re some more glamorous version of who you really are, the skinny guy with the dry hands and erratic eyes.

Bruce will be back up here any minute now. He said he’d just go down to check in on dear old Jeeves and his butlerly shenanigans. He WAS already annoyed that I wasn’t done with my makeup. Saying some bullshit about how handsome, how PRETTY I looked without it. While this just might be the truth (MAYBE), Brucie-boy was merely manipulating me into rushing my artwork. Which is my face and all of THIS, of course.

And he would rush me for what? So that he could force me to be “moral support”…which means watching him pace back and forth back and forth back and GODDAMN forth in that longass hallway. We BOTH have some control issues, but HIS control freak tendencies cause him major anxiety in times like these. Unpredictable times. Times liiike…when your new boyfriend is about to be oggled by the whole fucking city and then torn apart, like a colorful lego castle for those overgrown toddlers to “play” with. You know, the reporters, the paparazzi, elite blonde gothamite cougars. You name it. They’re all overgrown toddlers, self-centered forces of chaos and need and want.

So, I might ask why does BRUCE get to be scared out of HIS mind? Shouldn’t that be ME, in this situation? But nooo, I have to focus on convincing him I’m just SO damn ready for it all. To keep him calm, y'know? But I mean, ugh! C'mon, the prick KNOWS Gotham’s favorite hobby is to take the new and the shiny (I’m both)… and drag it aaaall through the gutter until there’s nothing but more refuse to wash down into the sewer.

And then before ya know it, Gotham wants a new toy to distract itself from all the misery it holds. A new Barbie whose head they can rip off while they dress her up, someone they can attack and envy and worship, all at once. Though, I suppose that is precicesly the whole issue, the thing that has Bru-berry’s panties in a twist…I’m noooo Barbie. But me and Brucie already hashed this out yesterday night, got all the screaming and door slamming out of the way so it wouldn’t spoil the big day. 

It’s not that he’s ashamed of me. Really, honest!I’m a little baffled by that, too. But Bruce isn’t a guy who relies on the approval of others. And I mean, GOOD. Cuz I sure as fuck don’t. But the thing is…the PROBLEM is…that I’m a GUY. And my beautiful, dark, moody-broody knight? Well he hasn’t exactly been straight with the public about how not straight he is.

No one has seen me before, since I met my man in college, and we spent all our lovey dovey times together on campus. Making out in the chapel, the library, etc. A fun time. But back to the matter at hand: no one knows who or even what I’ll be when I make my Cinderella entrance, Prince Charming on my arm. 

We’re not sure how hard the boyfriend bomb will hit the company stocks. People’s jobs are at stake, is what Bruce thinks. He’s never been selfish even ONCE, always wearing whatever masks are asked of him. Yet he thinks he’s being selfish to choose his own heart over the sensibilities of a few conservative business partners and clients. Which well, he might lose, he’s right.

But fuck em, I say. If they’re so homophobic they can’t see how no company is better to invest in than Wayne Inc…then who wants to work with halfwits like those? Halfwits don’t make bank…prejudice isn’t good for business. But Bruce Wayne sure DOES make bank, and he WILL continue to…whether he’s an out and proud bisexual or not. And he most certainly is bisexual, hallelujah. Aaaand about to be out. I’ll just have to try my damn hardest to make sure he feels proud of himself, too.

The real problem, though, is that Bruce thinks he’s selfish ALL THE TIME, and that everything is his fault ALL THE TIME. This is where his shame lies, and where his urge to put the greater good before his own good was born. It’s because his parents died at the movies he had BEGGED them to see, and insisted on seeing SPECIFICALLY on opening night, even when they were tired.

They were shot by some bastard, and Bruce told me he thinks it’s his fault, no matter HOW many times his therapist says it isn’t. Bruce says he KNOWS he was just an innocent kiddo… but well, the scared part of him is a sad little kid as well…still, to this day. And well, a scared child cannot be reasoned with.

Speaking of all this, I’m pretty glad we had that dragout fight last night, though I feel pity for poor Alfie’s interrupted sleep. Bruce-goose heard me out on my eeeensie weensiee insecurities (that didn’t make me cry at ALL, oh heavens no, that was my dust allergy!) about being a freak just like daddy used to tell me I was. In turn, he told me all about how he ALWAYS thought that deep down, the freak was HIM. We really are two sides of the same coin, two threads in the same stitch. And I fucking love him.

I fucking love him aaaaand my new suit. I’m finally done dressing, and this 3 piece thang, hand tailored by some French dude…it looks damn good. I may be dreading tonight…the small talk, and all the biting my tongue, and all the rude once-overs…but if celebrity also feels like silk ties and real gold cufflinks…I could get used to this. If anything, I’ll have to. Because now that I’m used to being with Bruce…I couldn’t ever get used to life without him, again.

Oh! OH! That’s HIM, right now! I hear his footsteps before the door even opens, with a hasty, “Ok Jack, fun's over”. Aaand he’s staring at me. 

Aaand right on cue, his bright eyes are blowing out into black, like a city wide power outage...heh, probably caused by his dick short circuiting in those tight black pants. The ones I chose, not the boring gray ones he would’ve gone with. Bruce isn’t warm heather gray, like some fluffy wittle penguin chick...puh-lease. He’s shadow and night and wet oil pulled out of the sea's depths. He’s everything beautiful and murky that slips through everyone’s fingers...everyone's fingers but mine, funny enough. 

I'm the only plus-one EVER declared PARTNER to the playboy. Bruce tweeted that he'd be bringing his PARTNER (I repeat, ME) to the soiree. Fuck yeah. I saunter over, trailing my hands up his thighs as I walk out into all the gold opulence and the chandeliers and polite tittering. Hm. Note to self: try not to laugh too loud, maybe? 

“Hah hah, jolly good” I try, practicing a politely insincere chuckle. Playing dull puts people at ease, somehow. Bruce punches me on the shoulder for my mockery of civility, says I sound ridiculous. 

Ridiculous or not, he’s standing in front of me now, smoothing his big tanned hands down my shirt with that smirk on his face. The one that makes me wanna kiss him until his lips fall off. 

Well, Brucie...don't mind if I do.


End file.
